Man Down
by AdamasintheRough
Summary: War never changes. But the least we can do is distract ourselves. Some mild trigger and angst warnings. Please be cautious.


**Man Down**

* * *

 _Seeing you so bittersweet I almost died,_

 _My heart jumped but my head kept screaming: why?_

 _And I almost thought that I could change the past,_

 _And I almost, but that never really lasts..._

* * *

It had been a stressful day. That was the mild way to put it.

He now understood humans natural tendency for retaliation better than ever before; government officials in flashy suits doing nothing but pointing fleshy fingers and screaming as if that would make them sound anymore reasonable -of which they never sounded in the first place- made him want to break one too many promises and federal pacts. They knew so _little_ and acted as if they knew more than God himself. Those tiny, flesh-covered nerve endings who dared to lecture him on _loss_ and _war_ had him wanting to not only break his composure, but to _shatter it._ What could those humans have possibly gone through to think themselves of such high disposition? They had barely lived a notable _fraction_ of his lifetime, and here they were: telling him their demands.

The most Optimus could do was sigh.

The hangar was quiet -as it normally was late in the night- but it wasn't still. Any visitors that were here had left to attend other 'pressing matters;' leaving the occupants and personnel of the hangar to do the standard routine unhindered. A few soldiers had their rounds at this hour, others were on security detail, others... simply couldn't sleep. He sympathized with those particular few, even if those days had long passed.

Optimus slowly trodded over to the nearest hangar door, walking outside into the chill air. The floodlights illuminating the surrounding tarmac near the door were constantly on, but the other lights placed around the outside hangar walls were motion-sensitive- to conserve energy and various other reasons.

The tired leader continued on, careful to stay just beyond the sensors of the lights. He followed along the wall until he reached the corner; passing a few solemn soldiers on watch. Optimus had discovered this _particular_ corner a few weeks ago after another stressful meeting, seeking some sort of solace away with his thoughts and the stars. It was the only corner without a floodlight that faced the setting sun. Or was a watch station, though Optimus had purposefully and selfishly withheld mentioning the slight gap in security. He tried to justify it to himself, but only ended up admitting that it was -in the end- selfish indulgence.

Earth's sunsets were unlike anything he had seen across the galaxies he had drifted across. He had seen the sky rain diamonds, seen the death of star- yet it was the ever-predictable end of earth's day cycle that had him pause in admiration. Optimus hadn't noticed it before, his optics having yet to be adjusted to... well, what humans saw. Human vision was uniquely simple and overly complicated at the same time, though nonetheless amazing. The way that their eyes processed the wavelengths of light was, albeit useless in combat, was visually stunning. It had taken Ratchet weeks of study and months to figure out how to accurately apply the filter with plenty of frustration along the way; though when he finished, even he said it was worth the time.

And all of them agreed that sunsets were unspeakably beautiful.

Optimus gazed at the horizon thoughtfully; the last traces of the sun's warmth disappearing over the edge. Humans, he had found, were capable of practically anything -especially if you tell them they _can't._ The spectrum of their personalities and reactions appeared nearly endless. They were so _diverse._ And so... _frustrating_ as well. From their high-minded government officials to their humble soldiers. They're their own saving grace; their greatest trait and their greatest weakness.

 _They were going to doom themselves._

He looked down at the overgrown grass, an empty pull growing in his chest. He couldn't help the dark expression that overtook his features at the irony. These young, fleshy beings were no different then him and his own.

He turned his optics to the dark sky. Optimus only hoped they had a better future than theirs.

Bright little specks of light were splattered against the big black canvas, creating the illusion of a painting. Optimus still had the 'human' filter over his optics, otherwise the image before him would have given more information than simple colors. There were times when he greatly appreciated the stark outlook of humans, but even without the informational markers, he could still pick out his home's sector.

In the heart of the human constellation Orion.

Optimus thought the idea of constellations an intriguing one; seeing images within the arrangement of celestial bodies made it all seem so much smaller. Less cold and distant. Almost... almost within reach. He could understand why before humans had invented telescopes, they saw the stars as little holes of heaven's light. Cybertonians never had the concept of 'constellations' back on their home, and as a result no formations were named, but as Optimus thought back to the expanse surrounding his planet; he only wanted to search for his own constellations.

Something piqued his audio sensors.

 _Ah, so it_ is _their shift tonight._

A lone soldier had walked up beside the north wall of the hangar to _his_ corner and turned, drawing Optimus' attention away from the heavens. They clutched a gun to their chest -as standard watch protocol- their eyes following his pedes up to his face. From underneath the helmet and sunglasses -he had no clue as to _why_ they were wearing sunglasses- he could see a small smile form. The soldier then set their focus forward and marched to their watch position beside him a couple meters away; staring out across the horizon like he had.

Optimus could feel the hole in his chest begin to fade.

"If you have any requests, state them now or withstand my mess of a personal playlist."

His face slipped into an eased expression as he stared at the horizon once more. "Your choices have yet to cause an issue. I trust your judgment concerning this particular matter."

The soldier sighed, muttering a "whatever" under their breath.

And began to sing.

* * *

 _...Yeah I'm lying,_

 _'Cos I still can't find out,_

 _Why I'm so divided,_

 _Replay those few days over,_

 _Somehow I'll find it,_

 _Somewhere in your words..._

* * *

They had to go. The ping had popped up out of no where- as it normally does, but after one so recently? The team had hardly recovered from the previous mission; both mentally and physically.

Missions were no easy matter anyone can go running into guns ablazing, and no matter how simple the victory was; there was always an immeasurable loss.

Optimus focused his optics onto the interior of the hangar. Everyone was in a rush; running around like ants from one station to another trying to get everything ready as fast as -humanly- possible. Optimus and his men waited outside for the humans to be ready to depart; seeing as Cybertronians were no longer allowed in the hangar during 'preparation time' after one too many near-sandwich incidents.

It was a reasonable course of action.

A few minutes later, when everyone was in various vehicles on the road; Optimus was by himself, following up near the front behind two other military grade trucks. He was listening to the quiet radio, every so often switching between the frequencies until a favorable song played. He had found much of human music to be pleasing to hear, but he always preferred the slower songs; the ones where you can _hear_ the very emotions of the singers. If humans could pour their soul out, it would be through singing. He also enjoyed acoustic guitars and duets, though very rarely did he find all three qualities by simply skimming through the channels. He eventually switched the hushed music off in frustration of the interruptions.

Calls were every so often transmitted between members within the envoy, to ensure everyone was where they were supposed to be and to keep communications in case anyone saw anything. It was a simple requirement and a good practice, but if you weren't the one involved in the transmissions, it was... bothersome.

" _Lennox to Charlie Fower: Do you read me? Over."_

" _Charlie Fower to Lennox: Yes sir. No signs yet. Charlie Fower out."_

Two minutes later...

" _Lennox to Epps: Any activity? Over."_

" _Epps to Lennox: Nope. Not a thing. Epps out."_

Five minutes later...

" _Lennox to Echo Six: do you read me? Over."_

" _Echo Six to Lennox: yes sir, loud and cl-Harrison! For the love of God, Harrison, stop singing!"_

" _Well sorRRry I sing when I'm nervous!"_

" _Lennox to Echo Six: Everything alright, Larsen? Over."_

" _Echo Six to Lennox: Heheh... yes sir. Just a_ minor _complication. Echo Six out."_

Optimus chuckled quietly. There was nothing like a little humor to release the tension of an upcoming mission.

* * *

 _...Block the whole world out,_

 _And these words they don't come easy,_

 _And they don't come loud,_

 _So you'll never know it,_

 _Screaming man down..._

* * *

It was quiet. Quiet, solemn and somber.

Lennox had finished speaking, his voice tense and stricken, leaving the soldiers in silence; left alone to their inevitably dark thoughts. Lennox had given a few notices after Optimus had spoken, his words simple sounding and a struggle to voice, but thoughtful words nor distractions could turn the mood. There were the soldiers who looked to the ground, their eyes bearing into the concrete so much it'd crack beneath the pressure. Others looked to the burning sky above, as if praying to the heavens to relieve the burden set heavy upon their shoulders and subconscious. Then there were the ones who simply could no longer stand. They kneeled with their face in their palms, shaking their head in disbelief, as if it were just a bad dream that would end before they knew it.

But nobody was going to wake up from this dream.

Optimus gazed on as the humans mourned. Human funeral traditions varied distinctively, but each one was just as sorrowful as the other. They somehow reminisced of their own Cybertronian funeral customs, despite the vast differences. He watched as various squads gathered around their friends. They spoke quietly, with pained smiles on their faces and tired eyes.

It was always hard to watch. How lives could be lost so _easily._

He wanted to save this young species from that pain. To confront God himself and plead for their very lives. They were too young. Too little. They felt and suffered _so much_ for their size. But they were resilient. They would go on for those who lost the chance. Humans lived for one another, for the connection that bound them all in emotion-wrapped chains. He saw it in their feet, the way they dragged and scuffed the floor; saving their strength for the emotional turmoil and none for the walking. He saw it in their brows, drawn together in confusion: _"Why did they have to leave?"_ Knitted together in frustration: _"Why couldn't they have just been there?"_ Pulled into a look of desperation: " _Please, please. Please."_

He saw it in their eyes.

Ratchet had said that humans had no exact spark counterpart, that the rhythmic beating inside their chest -which was nearly indistinguishable from the pulses of a spark- did not house the human equivalent of a soul. From what Ratchet had gathered, human emotions were simply a combination of electrical impulses and complex chemical compounds. He had said that there was no scientific evidence of a human 'soul.' Optimus didn't believe so, and seldom did Optimus doubt his medic. He knew exactly where the human soul resided, and a simple human metaphor had guided him there.

Eyes were _indeed_ windows to the soul.

Optimus turned his gaze to one casket in particular. No one was beside it, aside from a couple lingering squad members to exhausted to stand back up. A uniform was neatly fold beside it; gunmetal gray dog tags shining bright in the setting sun. He knew those dog tags, only learning of the name engraved upon them a day ago. He knew the fresh black combat boots beside them; the sound of those particular boots when they padded against the tarmac surface when the sky had turned dark. He knew the sound of the voice; the one that would sing when they were nervous, stressed, or just simply bored.

He knew _them._

And now they were gone.

Optimus slowly walked off the tarmac, turning to follow the North wall; the mission's end flashing behind his strained optics.

 _The beating of helicopter blades as the medics arrived. The clouds of dust that obscured the horrid battle scene. The shards of metal and abandoned shells that littered the scape._

Optimus clenched his optics shut. He would have to bear these images in his mind forever. He could only pray for some sort of ease.

His prayers were left unanswered as the scene played on.

 _He wandered around aimlessly, optics glancing left and right in hopes of finding survivors to bring back to the evac zone. His steps were light and carefully placed as he scanned for any remaining life. He could hear the thrum of his spark and the beating rhythm of a heart together. Fires had clasped onto the dying shrubbery spread randomly among the environment, still blazing in the afternoon breeze. The sky matched the flames, the smoke rising and mingling with the rolling pink clouds above._

 _He saw the blood mixed with the sand before he heard the muffled singing._

 _He felt the splash of salty tears as the fell onto the metal of his hands._

 _He heard his spark drop as he watched they formed a small smile and muttered their final words._

Optimus turned his optics to the horizon, staring beyond the vibrantly painted sky.

.

.

" _...I just saw God,_

 _I just saw God,_

 _Outside the liquor store,_

 _He told me I was lost,_

 _I... lost."_

 _._

 _._

* * *

So... isn't this sad? I've had this idea for a while and I knew it wasn't enough for a story, so I stuffed as much emotions as I could in 2,500 words. I tried and originally planned to make it much longer, but I couldn't really find the right words to write. I guess it's been pent up long enough, it's time to let it see the light.

The little tidbits between scenes is the song Man Down by EDEN, or The Eden Project as some might know him. He's got lots of pretty emotional stuff, so I recommend him if you ever feel like it. Or not. Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers of Man Down (obviously). Also to note, Harrison, the 'singing soldier' if some didn't connect it, has been left gender ambiguous on purpose, but feel free to interpret them as you wish. That's why I left them ambiguous. Harrison. I thought about including the full name, but the fact that I had already included a surname when I originally planned to leave them nameless was a bit of a stretch. I simply felt like... they deserved more than that.

I wish you all great day.

 _~Adamas out_


End file.
